


Holiday Exchange 2019

by SoaringJe



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Cissamione Holiday Gift Exchange 2019, Discord: Cissamione, F/F, Mentioned Car Accident, idk how to rate this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21898156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoaringJe/pseuds/SoaringJe
Summary: “Do you have to go?”“You know why,” she rebuked. It was a gentle rebuke, considering whom it was from.or: Christmas Eve at the Priestly-Sachs household after an eventful year.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	Holiday Exchange 2019

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaydaydreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydaydreamer/gifts).



> for Lore because i can't HP to save my life rn

“Do you have to go?”

“You know why,” she rebuked. It was a gentle rebuke, considering whom it was from. She pointedly did not look at those doe brown eyes pleading with her in the mirror.

It was Christmas Eve and Miranda’s turn with the girls. Normally, that would have been enough to cancel any obligation to attend an event; but the twins had insisted.

“This is important—”

“ _Never_ more important than you.”

“We know that, Mom.” Caroline rolled her eyes. 

Cassidy smiled. “It’s only a few hours on Christmas Eve; it’ll be fine.” They couldn’t conceal the worry in their eyes.

That unshakeable belief of children that their parents would always be okay…they didn’t have that. And it broke a piece of her, splintering off like a spur in her side.

She had to do this.

And she had to do it alone. 

Magdalena’s sister had recently given birth, and their resident cook was understandably away in order to help her. Miranda may not be able to stay with them herself, but there was no way in hell she would leave them _by_ themselves.

Andrea wasn’t too pleased about that.

Miranda knew why.

“May I?” she plucked the earring from her hand before she could respond. Her hand tingled where Andrea had brushed against her. It was insane how Andrea’s touch affected her still.

Miranda allowed herself to look in the mirror as Andrea brushed her hair back from her ear, attaching the earring gently, and lingering. 

Her concealer was too strong to show the flush she could feel on her cheeks.

She wordlessly lifted her chosen necklace and just watched as Andrea laid it across her décolleté as if it was a fragile film of gold atop a priceless painting. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as the necklace was clasped. And she gasped as lips pressed to the skin above it.

Well, Andrea was _technically_ keeping to her word not to disturb her makeup. Miranda was gently turned around.

“Where are your stockings?” Miranda was already wearing her garter belt, and she pointed to them without protest, not in the least because she did not trust her voice to be steady.

Andrea got on her knees, unrolling her stocking up one leg and painting lines of fire. She clipped the stocking onto the belt and lingered, dipping daringly close to her center. 

Miranda could feel her breaths. And then Andrea repeated it with her other leg.

She was throbbing, her breaths short and unsteady.

Still on her knees, Andrea’s hands circled higher, above her belt, and brushed delicately against a scar.

Yes, Miranda knew exactly why Andrea didn’t want her to go.

She entwined one of their hands and stood, pulling Andrea up with her.

It only took her almost dying before she let herself hold her hand.

* * *

“Sachs, they want a quote from you.”

“What?”

“Someone heard that you were a former assistant of Priestley’s—”

“What happened to her?”

“She’s been in a car accident—”

The period between that and her arrival at the hospital was a blur.

“How is she?” There were no greetings between them; they were too efficient for that.

“She’s going into surgery but they don’t have enough blood.” Emily wouldn’t even meet her eyes, simply staring after the medical professional walking away.

“I’m a match for her blood type,” Andrea called after him.

They didn’t hesitate. “Get her prepped,” the doctor ordered.

“Well at least you’re good for _something,”_ Emily said without any bite, her eyes suspiciously shiny.

“She’ll be okay,” Andy told her.

Emily scoffed. “Of course she’ll be okay; she’s Miranda Priestly.” Her voice was noticeably steadier.

“This way, Miss,” they directed her.

Emily stood and watched, hands clasped tightly together as if in prayer.

Andy first saw clips of what she had said to the reporters as she waited by Miranda’s bedside. Emily had been called away to deal with the company; the twins and their dad had went to sleep, and she had just tagged out with Roy—he hadn’t been her driver at the time of the accident, and she could see that guilt hovering over him like a pall. They were all heavier, their lives darker, without her around.

 _“A mother of two girls is fighting for her life and you’re trying to come up with some reason her behavior would warrant someone to do this on purpose?”_ The ice in Andy’s own tone shocked her. _“Get out of my way.”_ They did.

“Why did you know my blood type?” a soft voice asked suddenly.

Andrea hadn’t been there the first time she awoke; she almost wondered who had told her about that.

“It was my job to know,” she answered instead.

“You quit.” Her eyes were as blue as ever.

“I never quit caring.” Andy managed to cut herself off before saying the last two words, but she was damned regardless. Even high on drugs and recovering from surgery, Miranda did not miss what went unspoken.

“Foolish girl,” was all she said before surrendering to sleep.

_Love makes fools of us all._

Though Andy would argue the truly foolish thing was letting go of love. She almost lost this. Lost _her._

_Never again._

* * *

Andrea’s thigh slipped between her legs for a moment before stepping back to help her into her dress. Miranda nearly stumbled.

“And they call me the devil,” she quipped as Andrea zipped her up.

She turned and Andrea was just smiling before she reached forward and entwined their hands. “Enjoy dinner.” 

Miranda was ruined for anything but dessert. As were her undergarments.

It distracted her for a time. “Ready, Miranda?” Roy asked her.

She looked out the tinted windows of the new towncar and at the three faces peering at her from behind the curtain.

She dug her nails into the crescents left behind on her palm, hovering a thumb over her wrist and feeling the _ba-dum ba-dum_ of her pulse.

“Chop chop,” she said softly. The engine started with a rumble, and Miranda focused on breathing.

She would be fine. She had too much waiting for her back home. 

She shifted in her seat. Especially as she needed to repay Andrea. With interest.

They celebrated a merry Christmas the next day.

~~and if Andy seemed a bit sore, well, she was happy.~~

**Author's Note:**

> i'm also terrible at sexual tension oop. Happy Holidays 😅
> 
> (i also didn't know where to insert the flashback whoops)  
> (i tried)


End file.
